Opportunity
by scriberated
Summary: After returning from their mission, Jack becomes an unlikely ally when he sticks his neck out for her, and gets her officially put on the Stark case - as his partner, no less. Things get complicated. Cartson. Starkinelli.
1. Prologue

**A/N: ...Please don't kill me for starting another story. I can't help it. Anyway, here it is. **

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**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

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Being invited to join her colleagues for an after work drink made her feel like a child again; the feeling of being included was so foreign to her, she had forgotten what it felt like. As a teen, she had attended St. Teresa's Boarding School for young ladies in Surrey, and even then her circle of friends had been very small. She followed the men out, casting one last glance at where Sousa sat at his desk, his eyes boring holes into his desk.

"Carter, come on, what's the hold up?" Jack's voice called out down the hall, startling Peggy into motion, and she was surprised to discover that he had waited for her.

"Nothing. I'm just tired is all," She explained, waving a hand in dismissal, but joined him regardless. She followed him to his car and slid into the passenger seat of the car, determined not to be deterred by the awkward air. All the others had gone ahead, and Peggy and Jack were left alone to drive over together.

He started the car and was silent for a time, though the silence was not terribly uncomfortable. After a long moment, he said: "Do you ever wonder what your life would have been like without the war?"

Peggy hummed thoughtfully, carefully assessing the faraway look in his eyes. "Truth be told, I never really thought about it. The war, and everything that came with it, consumed me. I don't know who I would have been without it," She took a moment to consider his scenario, and swallowed the disdain she couldn't express with words. Without the war, she would likely be leading the life that Angie thought she was living: working at the phone company and living at a women-exclusive hotel until she was married. Oh, she might have found a better job somewhere, perhaps, but the outcome would have been the same.

"I was supposed to be lawyer," He said, and began the short drive to the bar the SSR Agents frequented, a family owned bar called Bourbon &amp; Branch. "My father is a hotshot lawyer up in Boston… I'd just gotten my acceptance letter to Harvard when the war broke out."

Peggy looked at him, surprised. He had a gift for speaking, and negotiating, to be sure, but he generally seemed to prefer using his fists. "You still could be," She said gently, unsure of what to say.

"Nah," He said, offering her a genuine, sad smile. "I wouldn't know what to do in a school room anymore, let alone a courtroom." He laughed quietly as they pulled into the bar parking lot. They said nothing else as they walked into the bar, and the intimate air dissipated. Thompson bought Peggy her bourbon, as he promised, and the two slipped into a comfortable silence as they enjoyed their colleagues company and mindless chatter. They sat there for hours, neither participating in the conversation much, content to let their coworkers do the talking for them.

It had never occurred to Peggy that Jack might have had a different kind of life; he was quick to resort to violence, his suits were cheap for all that his ties were expensive, and his general manners seemed, for the most part, lacking. Knowing what she did now, however, she thought she understood. Even amongst the other agents, he was set apart; his intelligence, and his handsome face, were well-regarded and his success was often attributed to those factors. But people who came from upper class family's typically had a different kind of way about them, a different kind of grace, and it made them easy to pick out. Jack was trying to erase that grace, to remove himself from that part of his history. He wore cheap suits. and allowed a little crassness to seep into his mannerisms, to fit in with his blue-collar coworkers. He was literally attempting to reinvent himself.

Peggy found it ironic that, for all his popularity, he was working just as hard to fit in as she was. She looked at the clock on the wall, noting that the time read 9:15, and finished her drink. "I'll see you all at work tomorrow, gentleman," She interrupted their conversation gently, standing and pulling her coat on.

"Leaving so soon, Carter?" Jack questioned, his brow furrowed in confusion as he appraised her.

"It's been a long day, and I could use a good night's sleep," She didn't want to admit that she had a curfew; it would only serve to set her apart from them further.

"I'll give you a ride," Jack said, and pulled a few bills from his wallet to pay for their drinks, slinging his jacket on over his shoulders. If it had been anyone else offering her a ride home, their exit would have been accompanied by jeers and insinuations. As it was, for all that they didn't respect her as an Agent, they respected Jack, and didn't dare incur his wrath. If she were another kind of woman, she would have been flattered at his chivalry. As it was, she had seen what true chivalry looked like, and even though it wasn't truly Jack she blamed, it burned her that they would not curb their tongues because they respected her.

Still, Peggy didn't protest to his offer, not wanting to upset the uneasy alliance they had made in Russia, but was unsure how to handle another awkward car ride. She gave him her address as they settled into the car, and Jack did not delay the drive as he had on the way over.

"You never answered my question earlier, Carter." He said, curiosity evident enough in his tone that she didn't need to see his eyes.

She sighed, but answered regardless: "Without the war I would likely have returned to England, as my father's business here was the only reason my family moved here in the first place. I would have gotten a job as a secretary, or a clerk, due to my education, and worked until I was married," She could not hide the bitterness in her tone.

Jack surprised her by laughing, his lips quirking upwards into their trademark smirk. "Oh, I don't think so," He took his eyes off the road to look at her, amusement glimmering in his eyes. "War changes us, for sure, but it mostly just amplifies what was already there. I don't think you would have stood for it, Carter,"

And Peggy doesn't respond to it, at least not verbally, but she smiles anyway and thinks to herself that that might be one of Thompson's truest observations. They arrive at the Griffith's with twenty-minutes to spare until her curfew, but Peggy knows how Miriam looks down upon those who cut it close. "Thanks for the ride, Jack," As she opens the door and steps onto the curb, she belatedly realizes that it is the first time she has called him by his first name, at least to is face.

"Peggy?" And there is Angie, waiting just outside the door of the hotel as a few of the other boarders walk inside, casting curious glances at Peggy.

"I'll be right there," Peggy calls, smiling, though she dreads the interrogation that is likely to follow.

"Goodnight, Jack, and thank you again," Peggy says, smiling, and goes to shut the door, only pausing when she hears him speak.

"You're welcome, Peggy," He replies sincerely, meeting her eyes with a small smile. It is. she thinks, the first time he has used her first name without accompanying with jibe, and she is surprised at how nice it feels.

She shuts the car door, and watches him drive away. Angie is still waiting for her inside the doors.

"So, who's the dreamboat?" She asks, just as Peggy is close enough to hear her.

"A… friend, a colleague," Peggy says, stumbling over the term. It was difficult to think of Jack in those terms, when a few days ago she wouldn't have truly felt comfortable calling him either.

"Is that all he is, then?" Miriam's imperious voice questioned, almost making Peggy jump. The older woman

"Quite." Peggy replied, maneuvering around Angie to climb the stairs to her room, though it did nothing to deter Angie from following her.

"Oh yeah? Where'd you meet him? What's his name? How come you've never mentioned him before? And where were you the other night, by the way?" Angie peppered her with questions, and Peggy knew she wasn't going to get out of answering them. She sighed and unlocked the door to her room, allowing Angie to follow her inside. "...Did you spend the night at his place?"

This scandalous question made Peggy flush, and caused her to slam the door shut. She chastised the girl immediately. "Maria Angelina Martinelli, how dare you insinuate that my behavior was… indecent," She hissed, not putting it past Mrs. Fry to be eavesdropping at doors to insure that men had not defiled any of her young ladies.

"Alright, sheesh," Angie said, backing off, but stared at Peggy expectantly to answer her questions.

Peggy began to change, and used the moment to compose a believable story. "I told you that a… colleague had passed away suddenly, right?" And Angie nodded, waving her hand for Peggy to continue. "Well, he died under suspicious circumstances. The janitor found him in the morning, dead at his station," She lied, turning her back to Angie as she dressed. "The man who dropped me off tonight is an officer of the law, a detective - though he said he prefers the term 'Agent'. He came back to the company tonight to questions us about Ray, and he noticed that I was still a little shook up about the whole thing and offered to drive me home so I wouldn't have to walk so late at night. I spent the night at Marlene's - I told you about her, didn't I? - because her boyfriend broke up with her, and she was dreadfully upset about it. Satisfied?"

Angie shrugged. "I guess. Not going to lie you, Peggy, I was kind of hoping you were doing something a little fun, a little scandalous. You could use it. You're always so serious, you know?"

Peggy sat down at her vanity and began to remove the pins from her hair, setting them in a neat pile. "I suppose I am, now that you mention it. I just… don't have time for frivolity." She began to brush her hair, ignoring the pointed looks Angie threw her way in the mirror.

"Well, maybe this detective - excuse me, Agent - will make you make the time. What's his name again?" Angie asked, standing and making her way to the door.

"His name is Jack. Jack Thompson."

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The next morning, Peggy woke early and set to getting ready for the day. Her morning routine was set, but something about the day felt different, and Peggy attributed it to the rainy weather. She went downstairs to breakfast and took her usual seat beside Angie, murmuring a quiet good morning, and ate her breakfast.

"So, Peggy, who was the guy who dropped you off last night?" Asked Jenny, a newer resident that Angie had taken under her wing. And with that question, it was as if the floodgates had opened, and Peggy was assaulted by questions. She gave them the same answers that she had given to Angie, and was glad to leave the table when she had finished eating.

She caught a cab and made her way to work, grateful there had been a spare cab; usually in such weather, an empty cab was as rare as gold. The office was quiet as most of the other agents didn't arrive until nine, but Peggy preferred to arrive early and get settled. Morning shifts were her favorite. The office was quiet, her shift ended at two and left her the afternoon to do with as she pleased, and it left ample time for her private investigation in the evening.

"Carter!" Peggy was surprised to see Jack standing in the doorway of Dooley's office; he almost always had the night shifts. He had explained to Sousa once that he wasn't a morning person, and coming to work in the morning hungover was unprofessional. "Come 'ere,"

Peggy obeyed, hanging her coat on the coat rack, and walked into Dooley's office. "Yes?" She asked, waiting for one of the men to speak.

Dooley looked at her hard, and then turned his gaze back to Jack in a cold, inquisitorial way. "I've got an assignment for you," He said, and waited.

What, precisely, he was waiting for escaped her. "It's 8:30 in the morning sir, surely the lunch order could wait?" Well, no one had ever called her a morning person either.

Jack stifled a laugh underneath a cough, and sat, suddenly looking more relaxed than when she had come in. Dooley smiled briefly before sighing and folded his hands in his lap. "You're partnering with Agent Thompson, going undercover. There's a party this weekend, a charity benefit where all the rich glitterati are gathering. Stark is supposed to be there, but he's on the run from the United States government, so I'll doubt he'll show. However, there are some people I'd like you to talk to you." He passed her the invitation, and the dossier of people she was supposed to interrogate. "More than that, the gala is being held at the Waldorf Astoria. There's a man staying there, goes by the name of Mikhail Polzin. Stark's bank records show that they've done quite a bit of business. Find his room, search it, see what turns up. It might be nothing, it might be somethin', but by God you're gonna find out. Got it?"

"Yes sir," Peggy replied, skimming over the dossier and invitation with interest. She frowned slightly, chewing her bottom lip, when she red the invitation over.

"Problem, Carter?" Dooley asked sharply, seeing the look on her face.

"Just an inconvenience sir, I'll get it taken care of." Peggy said, not wanting to risk getting taken off the case for something so trivial; the event extended beyond her curfew.

"Well Carter, spit it out. I want this to go as smoothly as possible. If there's an 'inconvenience', I want it fixed before it becomes a problem. What is it?" Dooley pressed, and Peggy withheld a sigh.

"You heard about the death of my roommate?" Peggy asked, and waited for the Chief to nod. "I had to relocate after her death… I couldn't stay there. I moved into the Griffiths Hotel, which is a boarding house for young single ladies. The landlady, Mrs. Fry, imposes a very strict ten o'clock curfew." She confessed, hating the idea that such a little thing could rob her of her opportunity to prove herself.

"Oh, I don't think it'll be a problem, Chief," Jack said, shaking his head, and stood, grinning.

"You got a plan?" Dooley asked, leaning back in his seat with an inquiring glance. Jack nodded, and the wicked amusement in his eyes gave Peggy pause, but she didn't press him. Dooley held up his hands and shook his head. "I don't want to know, just make it work, Carter. Familiarize yourself with your targets, and make sure you've got something presentable to wear. Dismissed,"

Peggy and Jack exited his office, walking in-step to Peggy's desk. "You've got a plan already?" She asked disbelievingly; he'd had as much time as Dooley to understand the implications of her issue.

"Women love me, Carter. I'll just talk to your landlady and get it sorted." He said with easy confidence and utter surety.

She rolled her eyes and sighed, sitting down. "I guess I'd better start looking for a new apartment then,"

"Have a little faith, would you?" Jack said, grinning. "I'll swing by your place tonight to pick you up. You can introduce me to your landlady then,"

"What?" Peggy asked, taken by surprise. Oh, that would set the girls talking, alright. Especially since she had emphasized that they were only acquaintances.

"Well, if we're going to date, I'd better get your warden's approval before I take Cinderella to the ball," He said, his grin widening further. He winked. "Tell you what, let's make a bet: If I can get your landlady's approval to extend your curfew, you'll owe me a favor. If you win, and I can't, I'll owe you a favor. Deal?"

Peggy snorted. "If I win, you'll pay the first month's rent at my new apartment - because I'll need a new apartment after I miss my curfew."

"Deal," Jack grinned, radiating confidence. "Wear something pretty tonight, Carter," He ordered with a cavalier grin, and went to his desk to go over the dossier.

Angie would never let her live this down. Peggy sighed.

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**Thoughts? Review, and let me know what you think. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 1: Together, Or Not At All

**A/n: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! You are all fantastic and amazing, and I really appreciate it. Enjoy this (belated) Valentine's Day update!**

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The afternoon shift at the SSR passed uneventfully, and though Peggy was utterly bored with the paperwork and research she had to complete, it was still a thousand times better than taking lunch orders. Generally, the room was quiet. While the night shifts were often loud and merry, the morning shift was almost peaceful. Peggy's phone rang, breaking her momentary serenity.

"Carter," She answered immediately, the phone barely making it to it's second ring.

"Hi Peggy, it's Rose," The woman began. "I know you're awful busy repairing that phone line, but your shift's almost up and a friend of yours has stopped by - Angie, she says - and wants to know if you were free for lunch?"

"Ah, yes, I'll, um, be right there," She replied, and hung up the phone. Angie knew where she worked, of course, but Peggy never expected her to just show up; usually, she had better things to occupy her time. Her shift was technically over in ten minutes, and she doubted that anyone would miss her.

She donned her coat and hat and made her way to the elevator, musing about what could have brought Angie to her work. It would either be something fantastically sad, or immensely good; Angie simply did not do anything in between. The elevator moved quickly, for all that it was an older model, and Peggy was unsurprised to hear Angie's voice before the doors even opened.

"Angie, this is a surprise," She said, stepping out of the elevator, and gave Rose a grateful look. Rose winked conspiratorially, and went back to her work.

"Oh, English, you'll never believe!" Angie gushed, taking Peggy by the hand as they exited the building. "I went to an audition - and they loved me! They gave me the part, right on the spot," She squealed loudly, her joy audible to anyone within three blocks, Peggy thought.

"Angie, that's fantastic! How wonderful!" Peggy praised the girl, guiding her out of the building.

"Oh, I feel like I'm dreaming!" Angie said, giggling again. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I ain't quittin' my job at the diner," She said, and Peggy was proud of her practicality. "Not yet, anyway. This is just step one."

"But well earned, I should say. Let's go have lunch, and you can tell me all about it." Peggy suggested, and pointed down the street. "I know a lovely little cafe down this way."

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Jack sat his desk reading through the profiles of the men and women he was supposed to interview on Friday night. The list was long, and even with Peggy there to help, he wasn't sure they'd be able to get through everyone on the list. He sighed, tossing the file back on his desk, and leaned back in his chair. The chief seemed so sure that Howard Stark was behind all this, even with the new information about Leviathan, but Jack wasn't so sure. This whole case of stolen blueprints and weapons seemed almost trivial compared to what they had found in Russia. Secret organization, secret training facility… it seemed like the world had gotten ten times bigger, and ten times more dangerous.

"Jack?"

Jack looked up with a sharp inhale, startled to realize that Sousa had been trying to get his attention. "Susan, what are you doing here? I thought you worked the night shift," He asked, his teasing tone trailing off as he noted the dark bags under Daniel's eyes, the almost defeated expression clinging to his mouth. "What's wrong?"

Daniel swallowed and shook his head. "We need to talk, and we need to see Dooley. It can't wait."

Jack shrugged helplessly. "Dooley left a couple of hours ago. Said he had some business to take care of. What's wrong?"

Daniel swallowed and hesitated, looking at Jack consideringly. "It's Peggy." He said in a low voice, glancing around the office. "She's not who she pretends to be."

Jack stood slowly, his expression darkening. "What are you talking about?"

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Peggy and Angie enjoyed a leisurely lunch at the little French cafe a few blocks from the office, and Peggy decided that there was no sense in putting the conversation off any longer. "So," She began, clearing her throat and earning Angie's full attention. "Agent Thompson came by again today, and he asked me out to dinner tonight,"

Angie exhaled dramatically. "Oh, thank God, English, I gotta tell you the truth - I was getting a little worried about you," She sipped her coffee, and grinned. "All you ever do is work! And that's coming from a gal who goes from an audition to the diner," She said sternly. "When's he picking you up?"

Peggy opened her mouth to answer her and realized, to her amusement, that Jack had failed to mention a time - and she had forgotten to ask. "I don't know…"

Angie set her cup of coffee down, her face scrunched in confusion. "You didn't set a time?"

"I guess we… got caught up in the moment. He said dinner, so I would presume around six? Although, if it's a New York dinner it might be closer to seven." Peggy mused, biting her lip.

"Or he takes you out for a drink first, and it'll be five," Angie said wryly, and Peggy felt foolish for having forgotten such an important detail. "Well, nothing to be done for it now. We'll just have to hurry you home and get you ready," She said practically, rolling her eyes.

"We?" Peggy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Look, Peggy, don't take this the wrong way - but you forgot to get a time out of the guy who's coming to pick you up for a date. This whole dating thing just isn't in your… skillset. You need my wisdom," Angie said, as though Peggy had come begging for her aid.

Peggy smiled and nodded, knowing Angie was correct about her inexperience, even though this wasn't a real date, and paid for their meals. The two women caught a cab home, and Peggy was surprised to find that the rain had lessened to a light drizzle. Truly, they could have walked, but Angie was insistent that they had wasted enough time as it was. Their arrival at the Griffiths was met with the usual warm reception, though Angie wasted little time in sharing the 'good news' about Peggy's date. Mrs. Fry was, as ever, curious to the point of being nosy, but seemed satisfied when Peggy told her that her gentleman caller worked in law enforcement, and that he would be coming in to introduce himself. While Miriam might have said that she would reserve judgement until she met him, Peggy could tell that the woman was satisfied with her choice.

Not wanting to disappoint Angie, or put a damper on her day, Peggy let Angie take complete control over her preparation for her date. The end result was, admittedly, quite stunning. Peggy couldn't risk wearing her nicest dress as it had been photographed at the club, but she had another that Angie insisted she wear. Admittedly, Peggy had been reluctant. It was her favorite dress, red, with a satin plunge neckline, but the last time she had worn it… the last man she had worn it for… Well, Angie couldn't have known, and without telling her, Peggy had no good reason to refuse.

He came, as Angie had predicted, at five o'clock sharp. With almost all the girls at the Griffiths aware that Peggy had a date, even despite Angie and Peggy being cloistered in Peggy's room, it took only two minutes for someone to knock on the door and inform Peggy that her date had arrived. As Peggy descended the stairs, she was amused to see that Miriam had wasted no time in digging her claws into him to discover his true intentions.

He was, Peggy was unsurprised to find, dressed dapper as usual. Though, she noted, his suit was nicer than the ones he wore to work, a deep navy in color, with a matching vest. What did surprise her, was the light laughter coming from Miriam Fry and the faint blush to the elder woman's cheeks.

"Hello, Jack," She greeted softly with a warm smile, and felt a brief moment of feminine pride when, turning to look at her, he seemed to have lost his tongue.

"Peggy," He greeted, recovering from his momentary stupor. "You look great," He complimented, and while it may not have been the most eloquent compliment she had ever received, it was completely sincere.

"Not so bad yourself, Agent Thompson," She said, teasing, and offered Miriam a cordial smile.

"Oh, how charming you two look! Such a handsome couple!" Miriam exclaimed, beaming at them. "Now, young man, curfew is at ten o'clock - she'd best not be late, you understand?" Her smile broke only for a moment to give way to her stern look, but returned when Jack nodded and proceeded to charm her further. He offered Peggy his arm, which she accepted, and the two made their way outside. He inclined his towards her to whisper quietly: "Why are all the women in that hotel watching us out of their windows?"

She chuckled and replied "They are protective of me, and curious about the man who has tempted me away from the comfort of my room," He opened the passenger door for her, and closed it gently after she was seated. She saw him wave to the girls, half of whom waved back, and couldn't help but laugh at the other half, who immediately shut their windows and pulled their blinds.

He slid in to the drivers seat and started the car, and Peggy noted the stiffness in his shoulders. even as he turned to smile at her. His manners said he was comfortable, but his body language said otherwise.

"So, where are we going?" Peggy asked, unwilling to spend the car ride in complete silence.

"I would tell you, but then I'd have to kill you," Jack teased, a small smile gracing his otherwise austere features. His words lacked their usual confidence, their usual charm, and it made Peggy uneasy. She was surprised to note that she knew him well enough to know when something had upset him.

"Stop the car," She ordered, sighing. Jack looked at her curiously, and frowned, but obliged and parked the car in front of a store that had already closed. "What's wrong?" She asked pointedly, turning in the seat to face him.

Jack opened his mouth, likely to protest that nothing was wrong, but thought better of it at seeing the serious expression on her face. He exhaled, his face growing cold, and all facade of charm seemed to dissipate. He looked at her, his expression calculating and weary. He turned the car off and sat back in his seat, no longer trying to meet her eyes.

"Jack?" She asked again, growing concerned. The silence in the car felt palpable, as did the darkness of the New York streets. People walked by, paid little attention to the couple sitting in the car, but it did nothing to easy Peggy's growing concern.

"You know, I had this all planned out. The where, the when, the how… But how could it have gone according to plan? How could I think that I could fool you?" His tone was bitter and angry, and for all that he didn't shout she almost wished he would. "You can't kid a kidder, Marge," He laughed, but there was no humor in it.

"Jack, what is going on?" She asked again, trying to get a straight answer out of him.

"You're working for Stark," He said, with no small amount of cold disdain. "You're a spy."

Peggy say frozen in her seat, her heart dropping to her stomach. Her mind raced. "You've got it all wrong, Jack," She managed to say, pleased that her voice was calm.

"Not from where I'm sitting. Sousa identified you from the pictures we got from the club, from the scars on your shoulder from where you got shot. And then he got a positive ID of you from Sheldon Mcfee making off with a truck full of nitramene."

"Please, give me a chance to explain," She said, and saw, for the first time, the uninhibited betrayal in his eyes. He wasn't pretending anymore.

"Why do you think I stopped the car?" He said, and shook his head. His fingers gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white, but he didn't start the car.

"It's true that I don't think Howard sold his blueprints and weapons to enemies - for all his philandering and questionable morals, he is a good man. He was as good a friend as any member of the 107th. But I am not a spy. I wasn't a war hero, Jack," Peggy said, watching people walk by the car, carrying on with their lives. That's what people did - they carried on. Despite war, and death, and a million other terrible things, people carried on. "Nor was I a soldier." And this felt like confession, for all that Jack Thompson could not be described as priestly, and the front seat of a car was neither sacred nor private.

"But I participated in the war nonetheless. I am not so vain to say that I deserved a medal, or any kind of recognition for my efforts in the war, but… I just wanted respect. And to be respected. When I came home from the war, in which I had participated as a handler, trainer, and covert operative, I was relegated to taking lunch orders and answering phones. And, Christ Jack if that didn't burn me,"

Peggy licked her lips and took a breath before continuing, not looking at Jack to gauge his reaction. "I didn't want people to clap when I walked into a room. I just wanted to do the job that I was trained for, the job that I am good at. Apparently, even that was too much to expect. So, Howard goes and gets himself into trouble… and I think that maybe I have chance to prove myself. I'm not assigned to the case, of course, but I realized I didn't have to be if I investigated on my own time. So, that's what I did," She didn't look at him yet, not wanting to see the pity she knew would be in his eyes.

"I put on a wig and played dumb, and I found out about Leet Brannis, and I posed as New York City health inspector to gain access to the milk trucks and found Sheldon McFee. I took the truck full of nitramene away, not wanting to risk it falling into the wrong hands, and got attacked during my escape. The truck, and the nitramene, wound up in the bottom of the lake, and I walked away with new scars. I found Howard's stolen weapons but didn't dare put the call in myself because my ties with Howard would call my actions into question, so I placed an anonymous tip instead." She glossed over the details of her investigation, pointedly leaving Edmund's name out of it as much as she could.

"With our newly acquired information about that… training facility in Russia, I made an intuitive leap that it was a woman who stole Howard's blueprints and weapons. His butler, Jarvis, said he would be more than happy to acquire a list of the women Howard had… had a liaison with in the past six months. The little girl who attacked us had scars on her wrist from being handcuffed to the bed each night. I speculated that it would be a hard habit to break, and that our thief would have the same scars. I… haven't had the opportunity to pick up the list yet, or investigate it further. My afternoon was… hijacked, I suppose you could say. And… that's all of it. I'm ambitious, and my pride was wounded, but I am not a spy."

Throughout her confession, Jack had said not a word, nor made a sound, and for several minutes it seemed like he wasn't going to. "Well, this is fine mess you've made, Marge," He said at last, and Peggy was surprised, and relieved, to note that his words were tinged with a hint of warmth.

"I hate that name," She said softly, shaking her head. "You… believe me?"

Jack snorted, and exhaled loudly. "You saved my life, and beyond that… I think you'd rather pull out your own nails than betray this country, or the SSR," Or the memory of Steve Rogers. But that didn't need to be said, and she was grateful he didn't vocalize it. "But I needed to hear you say it, and I needed to see you when you said it. I'm angry that you went off on your own - you could have gotten yourself killed. It was a stupid, dangerous move, and you should have known better."

He started the car and reentered traffic once the road was clear. "Which is why, tomorrow morning, you're going to give me everything you've got on this investigation, and we'll work it together."

Peggy looked at him for the first time since she had begun her confession, and took in his relaxed shoulders, and the relief in his face. "Dooley will never allow it," She said hesitantly, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Not after I'm accused of being a spy,"

"He'll allow it. He hasn't heard about your exploits yet, and I'll talk Sousa down," Jack said, his trademark confidence returning. "Technically, he already put you on the case when he ordered you to come with me to interview those people at the charity gala. He's got his hands full with this… leviathan thing. He'll be angry, sure, but you fessin' up to me and not running will go a long way. I'll smoothe it over."

"Thank you," Peggy said, grateful, but wary. "And… what will you ask in return?"

Jack laughed, his grin mischievous and contagious. "Well, I wasn't going to ask for anything until you said something - I am capable of doing something nice, you know. But if you're offering…" He trailed off, and Peggy braced herself. "How about you make me dinner,"

Peggy scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Why, because I'm a woman?" She asked, her tone scathing, ready for an argument.

"Because I can't cook," Jack admitted, not reacting to her fiery tone except to grin. "I swear, Carter, the last time I tried, I burned water. The only thing I've had to eat in the past three weeks is crappy bar food, and pre-packaged sandwiches from the diner," His tone was more pleading than arrogant now, and Peggy couldn't help the laugh that escaped her.

"I'm afraid you're out of luck, Mister Thompson. Never mind not having an actual kitchen to cook in, I'm afraid my cooking skills are likely on par with yours." She admitted, only half-joking. She could cook if she needed to, but it was never very good. "I'd be happy to introduce you to my favorite bakery, if you're starved for decent food,"

"Deal." Jack confirmed, and Peggy could tell by the way his lips twitched that he'd likely had a snarky comment to make about her cooking skills, but had thought better of voicing it.

They pulled into the Waldorf Astoria driving loop, to Peggy's surprise, and parked in front of the doors. "Give me your hand, Carter," He ordered, and Peggy frowned.

"Why?" She asked, though she did as he bid.

"Not your right hand, Peggy, your left," He chided, and wiggled his fingers impatiently. Peggy withdrew her right hand and offered her left, surprised when he held it gently in his own. A ring seemed to materialize in his hand, though she realized he must have had it in his breast pocket the entire time, and he slid it on her ring finger. "Ready to establish our cover, Mrs. Thompson?"

Peggy's mind caught up to the implications of his actions, and their location and nodded, smiling brightly. "Absolutely, Mr. Carter," She retorted, and offered the Valet a smile as he opened her door for her. While she was annoyed that he had failed to include her in his plan, she could hardly break cover and chastise him for it right now. Jack exited the car with an air of arrogance, palming the valet a few bills along with the keys.

Jack took his place by Peggy's side, and caught her hand, interlacing their fingers. They swept inside the hotel with all the grace of what was expected of the hotel patrons, and made their way to the restaurant inside. "Jack Thompson," He gave his name to the host, glancing around the busy restaurant.

"Right this way, Mr. Thompson, Mrs. Thompson," The host said, leading the two to a table stationed in the middle of the restaurant. Jack pulled out her chair for her, and Peggy took her seat and thanked the host.

"Well this is a pleasant surprise," She said after the host had left, glancing over the menu.

"I thought it would be a good idea for us to be seen here over the next couple of days. No one will question us on Saturday night if they've already seen us here," He responded, his voice low. The restaurant was busy, and loud, but Peggy appreciated his discretion regardless.

No prices were listed on the menu, but Peggy knew that most fine restaurants didn't; if you had to ask the price, you couldn't afford to eat there. She wanted to ask Jack, simply out of curiosity, if he was paying for this or the department was, but knew it to be rude. Their conversation was, at first, forced and awkward, but it got easier to carry on as time passed.

"Oh, Jack, you didn't," Peggy laughed, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Oh, yes, I did." He confirmed, unable to smother his grin. "Seasick as all hell, and the first goddamn thing I do on the ship is throw up on my Captain,"

"Oh, you two make such a darling couple!" An older woman cooed, as she walked past their table. Her husband gave them a knowing, warm smile, clearly used to his wife's antics. "How long have you been married?" She asked pointedly, ignoring her husband's soft chastisement at her prying.

Peggy looked at Jack and inclined her head softly, letting him take the lead. Since he hadn't seen fit to inform her that they were going undercover, she would let him be responsible for their cover story. "Only a few months," He said, oozing natural charm. "But I feel like I've known her forever," He said, winking.

"Oh, to be young and in love!" The woman said, beaming at her husband.

Peggy mused that Angie would likely be like this in her old age, warm and dramatic and nosy, and was keenly grateful for having her as a friend.

"You, come here," The older woman snapped her fingers at a passing server, and Peggy felt minutely sympathetic for the man. "Bring a bottle of your finest champagne to this lovely couple, on us," She commanded imperiously, and her husband paid for it without comment.

"Oh, that's awfully sweet of you, but entirely unnecessary," Peggy tried to deter her, noticing the curious stares they were receiving from the other patrons. They were attracting too much attention.

"Not at all! I insist. It just warms my heart to see young love, especially after the war," The woman's expression faltered for a moment, sadness creeping in. "My grandson… didn't come home. He was engaged to this lovely girl, for all that she was from Hoboken… I never got to see him married."

Peggy reached out to take the old woman's hand, squeezing it gently. "I'm so sorry," She said sincerely, noting the austere expression on Jack's face. They were both all too familiar with loss, and death.

The champagne arrived as a welcome distraction, but it seemed that the spectacle was not over yet; the server had provided four flutes, so that the couple might participate in the toast.

"A toast, to young love, and all the happiness of marriage. Cheers," The woman said, her voice rising high above the din of the restaurant.

Peggy and Jack obligingly raised their flutes and sipped, thanking the woman and her husband graciously.

"Kiss!" A voice cried out from the other end of the restaurant, proving Peggy's suspicions that they had attracted attention to themselves.

Peggy felt herself grow warm and blush and immediately began shaking her head, murmuring aloud about propriety and how improper it would be.

"You're married now, dear," The woman said, attempting to assuage her. "Society is much more forgiving, I promise. Go ahead!" She encouraged them, beaming.

Peggy met Jack's eyes, unsure of how to proceed. The whole restaurant was now watching their less-than-finely-tuned performance, and now they had little choice. There wasn't a polite way to refuse, and they couldn't afford to have these people remember their cover poorly.

Jack's kiss caught Peggy by surprise, for all that he had to stand to lean over the table and kiss her, she should have had time to prepare herself. His lips were warm and soft, and though he had kissed her boldly and firmly, she did not feel violated or put upon. Instead, her heart raced. His hand was gently placed on the back of her neck, cradling her head to tilt it upwards. Her own hand seemed to move of it's own accord, settling gently on his jaw, the slight stubble tickling the palm of her hand.

She was dimly aware of the light clapping in the background, and only came to her senses when Jack began to pull away, his nose brushing against hers gently. His lips were stained just slightly from her lipstick, and she had the wherewithal to laugh and smile at the woman, thanking her again for the champagne. The old couple left, the husband kissing his wife affectionately on the temple as they walked out. The rest of the restaurant patrons went back to their meals and conversations, and Peggy and Jack could feel the attention slip away from them.

She cleared her throat, and passed Jack a napkin. He looked at her, and though he maintained his smiling mask she thought he still looked a little dazed himself. "You," Her voice cracked slightly, coming out as a low squeak, to her embarrassment. She cleared her throat. "You have some lipstick on the corner of your mouth,"

He accepted the napkin, and duly wiped his mouth thoroughly to remove any lipstick that might have lingered from her kiss. He didn't say anything about it, he didn't say anything at all, but Peggy almost wished he would.

She wished there was something to distract her from the fact that her heart was still racing.

She wished Jack would stop looking at her that way, with is gaze warm and shining with humor.

She wished he had never kissed her.

She wished he'd kiss her again.

* * *

**Review? Please?**


	3. Chapter 2: Be My Alibi?

**A/n: Thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed/expressed an interest in this story! Here's a very belated update for you. On another note, I am going to try and update every other Monday, so look for an update on the 23rd. Thanks!**

* * *

The rest of their dinner passed in an uncomfortable silence. After their kiss, Peggy had attempted to carry on with their evening by pretending that the kiss hadn't even happened; Jack, unfortunately, was incapable of doing the same. Eventually, she gave up trying. Their meal was paid for, the waiter tipped, and Peggy realized that it had actually been almost forty minutes since they had last spoken.

"Enough, Jack," She whispered as they entered the hotel lobby, and pushed him down an empty corridor.

"What?" He asked, his tone defensive.

"You were not the only one put on the spot in that dining room, Jack, and ignoring me isn't going to change the fact that it happened. Christ, you're acting like you've never kissed a girl before," She said, trying to coax him from his embarrassed shell.

It was only after a few more moments of silence on his part, and a darkening shade of pink dusting his cheekbones, that the truth of the matter dawned on her. "Jack… have you ever actually kissed a girl before?"

"Yes," He replied tersely, looking everywhere except at her.

"Before you just kissed me in the dining room?" She clarified, raising her eyebrows. He was silent. "Oh my God," She laughed, and once it started she couldn't stop it. "I'm sorry, Jack, I don't mean to laugh… at you… it's just…"

"Yeah, okay, that's enough," He hissed, scratching the back of his head. "People are gonna think you're a loon," And despite his obvious embarrassment, a small smile escaped his stern demeanor.

"I really am sorry," Peggy said as her laughter tapered off. "I just… You never struck me as the type to be… chaste," And Jack could tell that she was trying very hard not to start her giggling all over again.

"Yeah, well, my mother would've skinned me alive if she'd caught me foolin' around before marriage. And after I enlisted, well, the Navy wasn't exactly as… open-minded as the army apparently was. When I came home, I got a job at the SSR… and I don't exactly have much time for anything else apart from work,"

Peggy knew that wasn't true at all, but she knew he how felt. Coming home from the war was difficult for soldiers, in a thousand different ways, but none more so than trying to return to 'normalcy'. Normalcy for a soldier involved taking orders, dealing death, sleeping and eating in short shifts because the next attack was imminent. Polite society failed to recognize that difference, that a soldier's version of normal was different.

Lack of time wasn't Jack's problem. It was lack of connection.

"Well, that makes two of us," She said at last, and when he finally looked her in the eye for the first time in almost an hour, she felt he understood.

"Now then, husband, what's next on our agenda?" She teased, smiling, and the tension between them eased as Jack fell back into their cover.

"We do still need to check into our room," He said, leading her from the darkened corridor to the front desk.

"Mr. &amp; Mrs. Jack Thompson," He said, giving the clerk his name with an easy smile.

"Ah, yes, it looks like everything is in order," The woman murmured, looking over her list, and stood abruptly to retrieve a room key from the key box. "You've been booked for the honeymoon suite - congratulations - on the eighth floor." She passed them their room keys, and waved her hand to her right. "The elevator is just down the hall, and the bellhop will help you with your luggage,"

Jack and Peggy followed her instructions to reach the elevator, and were pleased that there didn't seem to be a crowd.

"Can I help you with your luggage?" The bellhop asked as they approached the elevator, cutting them off.

"Oh, I'm afraid it hasn't arrived yet," Peggy said sweetly, noting the blank look in Jack's eyes. "Some mix-up at the airport," She huffed, rolling her eyes. "But we'll call if we need you," The bellhop nodded and left to avail himself to the new arrivals checking in.

"Nice," He whispered in her ear, grinning.

"Well, you can't think of everything, can you? Though at some point we should probably actually establish a back story, one we both know," She whispered back, unable to whisper in his ear but tall enough to be heard.

The elevator operator gave them a courteous nod. "Good evening, which floor?"

"Eighth," Jack replied, and palmed the man a few bills. Peggy hoped that he wasn't paying for this little charade - it would cost him a fortune by the end of it all.

"Enjoy your evening," The operator said, inclining his head in gratitude, as they arrived at the correct floor. Their suite was at the end of the hallway, just a corner down from the elevator. Peggy noted the stairwell at the end of the hallway with some relief; the stairs were almost universally faster escape routes.

"Shall I carry you over the threshold?" He asked cheekily, arms open and ready to scoop her up at a moments notice.

"Just open the door, Jack," She said, exasperated with trying to keep him focused on the task at hand.

"Killjoy," He muttered as he unlocked the door and obligingly swung it open for her to enter first.

The room was beautiful, though not entirely to her taste. The walls were painted a rich, dark red, likely to accentuate the crown molding. It was larger than any of her previous apartments, and vaguely reminded her of her childhood home, though she preferred that those memories stay locked away where she had left them. The door closed behind them, and while it was indeed a beautiful suite, Peggy wondered at him going so far as to book a room; it seemed like overkill, though she didn't voice her opinion out loud.

She kicked off her shoes and sat on the edge of the bed, tucking her knees underneath herself. "We should devise our cover story, since we've got a few hours until my curfew,"

."Sure," He said, and began to make himself comfortable too. His coat was removed and slung haphazard over the back of a chair, and while he didn't remove his tie, Peggy knew he'd have to retie it later. She wondered, just for a moment, if he'd actually spared a thought to what they were going to do in the room after dinner. His lazy, easy-going attitude gave her cause to believe that he hadn't. He sat on the corner of the desk, his arms crossed over his chest; it was a familiar sight, and she could feel the tension unwinding.

"So, we've established that our last name is Thompson, we've only been married a few months… How did we meet?" She asked, trying to draw him from his self-imposed stupor.

"We met… at a bakery. It was raining; I gave you my umbrella," He said casually, appearing to only give it a moment's thought. "Well, I tried to give you my umbrella. You refused, and I walked you home anyway,"

Peggy nodded, slightly impressed that he had come up with something believable. It surprised her that he had a romantic streak, for he always took the opportunity to mock some of their colleagues for their grand romantic gestures. Though, she thought, walking someone home wasn't exactly _grand_. It was… sweet. Another word she was having difficulty associating with him.

"Why'd you marry me?" He asked, and his voice startled her enough that she realized she had begun to lose her concentration.

It was a simple question, one she might even get asked, but it caused no small amount of inner turmoil. Why would she marry him, or any man? It was hard to think of moving on when Steve's memory was so vivid in her mind, or when she could feel his dogtags pressing against her breast in her shirt pocket. Why would she marry Jack? "I married you because… I loved you. Even when you were being obstinate and overbearing, because I knew you cared and you meant well. And because, even if you didn't agree with the decisions I made, you supported me anyway," Her answer was, perhaps, too vague, too personal. But it was honest.

She looked at him and was surprised to find warmth and good humor radiating from his eyes. a lopsided grin in place. "And here I thought I was the sap in this relationship," He joked, and his tone was light enough that she did not take offense.

"Why'd you enlist?" He asked, but his casual tone could not hide the fierce curiosity in his eyes. "How'd you enlist? Unless they were with the Cross or a paper-pushing volunteer, women didn't just get shipped abroad."

And while the fierce curiosity in his eyes was almost enough to make her defensive, she appreciated the fact that he wasn't beating around the bush. The way he phrased his questions, and the hurried way they seemed to fall from his mouth, confirmed her suspicions that these were questions he'd wanted to ask her for a long time.

"Family troubles," She said, being purposefully vague. "My family and I were no longer seeing eye to eye, and there was a war going on… I wanted to find a purpose. I tried enlisting with my own nation first, of course, but my father's name was quite well known and I was denied. My grandfather had been an American, and my family has always maintained dual citizenship so that they could reap the rewards of business on both sides of the pond. Applying as an American citizen was my next avenue. I was an accomplished lady, in more ways than sewing or playing piano; I knew how to speak German, and Spanish, and I was learning Russian at the time… and I was a quick enough study in everything else."

"I had to go through basic training, just like everyone else, but my… training took a different turn," She frowned slightly, remembering the day she was singled out from the other recruits and taken aside by the Colonel. Her enlistment was contingent on her agreeing to a more rigorous and varied training schedule. She'd had no idea at the time that she would, in fact, use all of the skills taught to her. Even the ones she swore she'd never use.

"Colonel Phillips was very fond of analogies, and he believed that you needed different tools for different jobs. Most soldiers were what he considered to be 'hammers'; strong men, good for… single minded purpose. Then you had your screwdrivers, those who were adept at carefully removing problems without damaging the whole wall,"

"And what did he call you?" Jack asked, and Peggy felt a little unnerved to be the sole focus of his attention. She had seen this look in his eyes before, when interrogating a suspect or working a case. Sheer single-minded determination.

"He called me… a swiss army knife," And though she laughed, there was a slight bitterness to her tone that could not be ignored. "I received training in wide variety of combat techniques, interrogation, codes, languages…"

Training. It came out so easily, she almost believed herself. Torture would have been more accurate. She'd had to prove her worth to the committee, and so she had to do better than her male competitors. She had to work faster, fight harder, withstand more. The things she had done to people, in the name of ending the war, were unthinkable in polite society.

Steve hadn't known; she'd never really gotten the chance to tell him. The guilt of her actions weighed on her, and every day that she spent fetching coffee and not atoning for her sins was another day in hell. Of course, Steve would have forgiven her. He wouldn't have understood, but he'd have forgiven her nonetheless.

There had to be people like her, who did bad things for the greater good, so there could be people like Steve, who had the choice to take the high road.

She would never make excuses for her actions, but she suspected she would spend the rest of her life making reparations for them.

"Carter?" Jack's voice jolted her out of her melancholic state, an undercurrent of concern echoing in his voice. "You alright? You kind of look like you're gonna… cry. You're not gonna cry, right?"

She huffed and rolled her eyes. "No, Jack, I'm not going to cry," Though she did sniffle, and enjoyed the momentary panic she could see reflected in his eyes. "But I do think a change of subject is in order,"

"Alright," And though his response was short and in agreement, Peggy could feel that the conversation had simply been put on hold. Part of what made Jack a great Agent was his tenacity. In another life she suspected he would have made a very fine news reporter.

For a moment, it crossed her mind to tell him everything; all about the people she had killed, and tortured, in the name of the greater good, and the rigorous 'training' she had undergone to be deemed worthy. He would understand in ways that 'good' men, like Steve and Daniel, simply never could.

But, as he moved from his position on the desk to sit in the chair, the moment passed and Peggy let it go. They worked on their alibi for another hour, occasionally taking verbal detours to exchange stories and take advantage of the complementary bottle of wine. Neither of them, as it turned out, liked red wine, but it was alcohol and it was free.

"We'd better get you home," He said at last, and retied his tie after unsuccessfully attempting to tighten it. "Wouldn't want you to get kicked out of your place,"

"If I do, it'll be your fault. You're going to help me move," She replied, smoothing her skirt as she stood. When she was in the Army, she had gotten in the habit of only owning what she could carry in her duffel. Truthfully, she'd never broken it.

His arm had become a familiar weight on her waist as they maneuvered their way out of the hotel, and the awkward undercurrent that had plagued them during dinner had dissipated. He drove her home in short order, the city traffic having eased due to the late hour, and obligingly walked her inside.

"I had a lovely time tonight, Jack, thank you," She said, smiling conspiringly at him, as Miriam left her office to see him off.

"It was my pleasure," He replied smoothly, winking, before turning his attention to Miriam.

"Mrs. Fry, I know this is sudden, but I have a request… My sister's wedding is this weekend, on the island, and I was hoping Peggy would accompany me for the weekend?" His tone was utterly sincere, hopeful. Peggy had to give him credit - he was an accomplished liar. Almost as good as she was, she'd wager.

"It will be chaperoned?" Mrs. Fry asked tersely, sharp eyes peering at him as if waiting for him to falter in his story.

"Yes ma'am," He said firmly, unwavering in his sincerity. "Most of my extended family will be staying in hotels, but my mother has assured me that one of our guest bedrooms will be kept empty for Peggy, should she decide to come,"

There was a beat of silence before Miriam looked at Peggy, appraising her hopeful expression with a keen eye. "Well, I could hardly stop her - I'm not her mother - but in this case, I wouldn't want to. You seem like a fine young man, and if you want to introduce Peggy to your family… Well, I'm not going to stand in the way of young love," She said at last, managing to sound magnanimous.

"Thank you, Mrs. Fry," Peggy said, gratitude seeping into her tone. "Jack, I'd better get going. I've got work tomorrow,"

"Yeah, me too," He said, and grinned his lopsided smirk. "I'll pick you up tomorrow around four?"

"That would be lovely," She replied, and awkwardly waved goodbye as he left, Miriam hovering to make sure there was no inappropriate behavior.

"A fine young man," Miriam said approvingly, giving Peggy a satisfied look.

Peggy went to her room and felt… drained. For all that the evening had consisted of no combat or secret rendezvous', it had left her feeling exhausted.

"Finally! God, I almost thought you weren't coming home," Angie's excited chatter startled Peggy, realizing that the girl must have been waiting up for her.

"Of course I was coming home," Peggy reproached, refusing to let Angie's imagination run away with her.

"Well, how was it?" She asked, following Peggy into her room.

"It was… nice," Peggy said, unsure of how to respond. It bothered her that she wasn't able to confide in Angie further.

"Nice," Angie echoed, deadpan. "You're gone for four hours, and I get 'Nice' as an answer? Come on, English, you're walking thesaurus - you gotta give me more than 'nice'," Angie scolded her, hands on her hips.

"He took me out to dinner, at the Astoria," Peggy said, undressing and changing into her nightclothes. "And we talked a good deal about our families, and his participation in the war - he was in the Navy, actually,"

"And?" Angie asked, looking at her incredulously. "Four hours, English, four hours you were gone. How long did this dinner last, exactly?"

Peggy rolled her eyes and shook her head affectionately. "I know you're hoping for something scandalous, Angie, but there's nothing to tell. We went out for coffee after dinner, and we really did just… talk."

"Oh yeah? _Then what's with the ring on your finger?_" Angie snapped, lips curling into a triumphant grin.

Peggy drew a breath and realized, belatedly, that she had forgotten to remove the wedding band from her finger. "Um," And she was ashamed that she faltered, for all her training and experience in telling lies.

"Never figured you for a shotgun wedding sort of gal, but hey, if you're in love… It ain't his sister's wedding you're going to this weekend, is it?" And, despite Peggy's best efforts, Angie's romantic nature and imagination ran away with her.

Peggy didn't bother trying to argue her point. She didn't have a ready explanation for the ring on her finger, and could think of no good explanation short of the truth. She simply shrugged, and accepted Angie's scolding about not inviting her to the wedding.

"I'll only forgive you if you name your firstborn daughter after me," Angie said after her lecture ran out of steam. Peggy got the inkling that she was only half-joking.

"Of course, Auntie Angie," She said, teasing. "But if I don't get some sleep, I swear I'll call the whole thing off. I'm dead on my feet after today,"

Angie bade her goodnight with a warning that Peggy owed her big time for not inviting her to her wedding, and that making her firstborn daughter Angie's namesake was only a start to repaying her.

* * *

Despite being exhausted from the long day, Jack could not simply head home as he wished. One of Sousa's conditions on letting Jack probe Peggy for information was that Jack had to meet him afterwards. The Red Door was the blue-collar neighborhood's most popular bar; unlike most bars in New York, it wasn't trying to be anything special. It was still busy, which Jack had expected, but knew the visit was going to be short anyway; his headache could hold for another twenty minutes. Sousa was sitting at the bar with a bottle of whiskey sitting in front of him; Jack wondered why he was even bothering to pour it in the glass.

"Why the long face?" Jack asked, settling onto a bar stool next to Daniel. "Bourbon, on the rocks," He ordered as the bartender walked by, and slid a few bills in the man's hand.

"What the hell took so long?" Daniel snapped, the annoyance in his tone only accentuated by the glazed look in his eyes.

"What, worried for me? I took her home," Jack replied, sipping his bourbon. "She's fine, by the way. Not a spy."

"Jesus, Jack, you didn't tell her?" The incredulous, accusing overtone in Daniel's voice put Jack on the defensive; his headache was bad enough without Daniel yelling at him.

"I gave her an opportunity to explain herself, and it's a damn good thing I did," Jack said sternly, a deep frown settling into his expression. "Sousa, it's _Carter_. She was working the case on her own, trying to solve it before the rest of us. Christ, did you even think about what could have happened if you ran your mouth to Dooley? Do you know what the American Government does to spies?" Jack moved Daniel's drink out of reach as he went to finish it, unwilling to ignore the near empty bottle. "She could have been executed, Sousa, if you'd taken this any further."

Daniel fell silent as he considered the new information Jack was giving him. True, he'd had trouble believing her to be a spy, but the evidence had seemed so overwhelming… He'd never even considered an alternative option, And Jack was right. If she hadn't been able to prove her innocence, she likely would have been executed. And it would have been his fault. His fifth drink lay unfinished, just out of reach, where Jack had moved it.

"She's got a chip on her shoulder, and somethin' to prove… Just like the rest of us. That's all. She's gonna bring in all of her work to the station tomorrow, so we call be on the same page," Jack said, and finished his own drink. "You want a ride home?"

"No, I'm good. I'll catch a cab." Daniel said, shaking his head.

"Alright," Jack said, giving Daniel a once over. "See you tomorrow," He left the bar with his head pounding, and was grateful that he only had short drive home. He hadn't felt this worn out since the war. The case was taking it's toll on everyone, in many different ways, and every day that passed Jack was feeling the pressure to try and get it solved. Nevermind the promotion, or the accolades… They didn't even really matter.

Jack's needs were simple: food, work, glass of bourbon before bed, and six hours sleep per night. He liked to think his desires were the same. All he wanted was to go to work, and not be haunted by empty seats at desks that once belonged to friends.

He'd lost so many friends during the war, too many, and he could hardly bear the thought of losing anymore. The thought that Carter was a spy, a traitor, had made him sick. The realization that she would be executed had made him throw up.

But she wasn't a spy, and her head wasn't on the chopping block.

And, if it was the last thing he ever did, it was going to stay that way.

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**A/n: Thanks for reading!**


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